


With the One I Love

by takethisnight_wrapitaroundme



Category: The Old Guard (Movie 2020)
Genre: Age Difference, Anonymous Sex, Bathtub Sex, Begging, Blow Jobs, Body Worship, Cock Warming, Creampie, Dirty Talk, Doggy Style, Dress Up, Established Relationship, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Formalwear, Jealousy, Kinktober, Lingerie, Mutual Masturbation, Nipple Play, Oral Sex, Orgasm Denial, Overstimulation, Phone Sex, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Possessive Sex, Quickies, Rough Sex, Semi-Public Sex, Size Difference, Size Kink, Strangers to Lovers, Teasing, Undercover Missions
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-02
Updated: 2021-03-14
Packaged: 2021-03-15 11:29:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 14
Words: 15,073
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29807730
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/takethisnight_wrapitaroundme/pseuds/takethisnight_wrapitaroundme
Summary: March is the new October. I will (try to) post a different kinky shortfic for Booker & Nile every day.
Relationships: Booker | Sebastien le Livre/Nile Freeman
Comments: 150
Kudos: 87
Collections: Book of Nile Collection!





	1. Cockwarming

**Author's Note:**

> If you’ve read any of my stories before, you’ll know that I am not good at being concise. I would very much like to change that, if only in this collection. Also, it’s the second March in quarantine, I’m going insane, and writing dirty one-shots is a way I can feel productive. So, this cursed month is now my kinktober.
> 
> I hope I write something you enjoy. If not, come back the next day and maybe I’ll have written something better. ;)

There were times when he was never close enough. Times when they made love all night or all morning and still, she wanted more. Needed more. Sometimes he would give her what she wanted until she couldn’t take it anymore—fuck her until she was so over-used she had to tell him to stop—and other times he would give her something else, just to see how long she could last being filled by him but not fulfilled by him.

They were lounging on the couch one lazy Sunday, after a long night tangled in the sheets and a slow morning with his head between her legs before breakfast, when the idea came to him. The Marseille–Nice match had ended a half-hour ago, a lackluster nil–nil draw where the players of both sides seemed to have been running in slow motion for ninety minutes. The two of them were laying on the couch back to front, with him behind, and she was scrolling through something on her phone while the TV cycled through replays on mute. She stopped scrolling when she felt him pull down her leggings.

“What are you doing back there?” she asked.

Her voice was trying for casual, but he knew the breathy hitch of arousal when he heard it. It was no surprise when he slipped a finger between her ass cheeks and found her pussy lips wet.

“I’m trying something,” he replied, popping the button on his jeans and dragging down the zipper. He took his cock out with one hand, using the other to pull down her panties and spread her legs so he could get a good angle to enter her from behind.

She moaned as he pushed inside, back arching as his half-hard cock slid easily inside her slick walls. She clenched down around him and they both felt him harden further, but not near enough for her purposes.

“You’re not even _ready_ ,” she whined impatiently, rubbing her ass back against him.

“Not about being ready,” he murmured, nipping at her neck. “It’s about you warming my cock like a good girl, and not complaining.”

 _“Ohh,”_ she moaned, blindsided by the order. She loved this type of play. Loved the exceedingly rare moments where he demanded his own satisfaction at her expense.

He slid an arm around her front, ostensibly to hold her in place, but his hand soon slipped beneath the t-shirt she wore, his fingers drawn to her hard nipples. He tugged on one and then pinched the other, just to make her whimper. He knew from experience if he teased those sensitive little nubs too much, she’d come all over him. Already she was panting, her body writhing against his in a silent demand for more.

“Calm down, sweetheart,” he murmured soothingly in her ear, hugging her close. “We have a whole day ahead of us. Let’s see how long you can last for me.”


	2. Costumes/Dress-Up

They were only forty seconds into their first dance as husband and wife when she rested her head against his shoulder, closed her eyes, and whispered something into his ear. To the gathered crowd of beaming colleagues, close friends, and tearful family, it no doubt looked like a tender moment. But to the only man capable of hearing the words the bride whispered, _tender_ was not the first descriptor that came to mind.

“I am dripping wet for you right now.”

The groom’s steps faltered on the dance floor, but luckily he’d had enough practice over the years to rescue it. He played off the misstep as purposeful, reaching his arms around his new wife’s back and hugging her to him as if he couldn’t stand to have even a few inches’ of space between them. The crowd let out a soft sigh at the apparent overflow of emotion, and even a few audible _Awww_ s could be heard among a contingent of young women.

“What,” the groom hissed in his bride’s ear, “in the fuck are you talking about?”

“I’m talking about how much I need your cock inside me. Right now.” Her left hand grasped at his back, her rings shining and bright under the lights for all to see as she whispered, “I’ve been wet since the moment I saw you standing at the altar. This tux you’re wearing, honey, I swear to God—”

“You need to _stop_ _talking_ ,” he interrupted sharply. “Or else you’re going to make me get an erection in front of _both_ of our extended families. I’ll never be able come back from that. Do you understand?”

“How do you think _I_ feel? I’m practically dripping on the dance floor here. Thought I was going to leave a trail behind me when we walked back down the aisle.”

“Jesus Christ,” he muttered, forcing a smile onto his face as he leaned away, and rightened their positions. Back to dancing, back to paying attention to the crowd of loved ones, back to listening to the music… “How many more goddamn verses are in this stupid song?” he muttered in her ear.

The bride snickered, her shoulders shaking as they circled the floor. She squeezed his hand that held hers, and then let herself be twirled out, and drawn back in. He held her a little closer for the rest of the song, and she relished in the feel of his big, warm body pressed close against hers. With every shift of his hips against hers, she imagined them naked. Or better yet, half-naked. She loved the idea of him taking her in her dress, with him still in his tux, and she told him so in no uncertain terms. By the time their first dance finally ended, they had a plan that was as flawed as it was desperate.

Fifteen minutes later, they found excuses to sneak off and made their way to a nondescript room in the back of the venue that, luckily, had a lock on the inside. No sooner had that lock been turned did the groom have his bride pinned up against the door, his hands already scrambling at the tulle of her dress so as to get at the prize beneath.

“Rip it, rip it, rip it,” she chanted, doing her part to help lift the hem. “I don’t care about the stupid dress, I _need_ you.”

He snorted, not knowing if he was flattered or frightened by her ability to throw such a precious garment to the wolves. “Thousands of dollars went into this dress,” he reminded her. “I am not _ripping_ it.”

A moment later his hands finally found the bare skin of her thigh, and their eyes connected as he touched the lace of her panties. They were, indeed, soaked through. If he hadn’t known any better, he would’ve thought they’d come straight out of the washer.

“Mon coeur,” he whispered, voice full of reverence as he stroked the wet scrap of fabric with two thick fingers. “I can't believe you got this way all by yourself.”

“Didn’t even touch myself,” she replied, her words trapped somewhere between proud and desperate. “Waited for you,” she continued in a whisper, tugging at the lapels of his tux to bring him ever closer. “I wanted my husband to be the first to touch me.”

“I’m touching you now,” he whispered, shoving her lacy panties down so there was nothing but her hot, wet flesh, cleaving open for his familiar fingers.

She moaned as he slid first two, and then three fingers inside her weeping pussy. She cursed him when he brushed his thumb very gently against her clit. He delighted in the way it was already so heavy and sensitive for him. He bet if he pinched it right now, he could make her come on command. The thought of her shattering apart that quickly made his cock throb, and he let go of her to ready himself. His pants fell to his ankles as he fisted himself with one hand and gathered her wetness with another, slathering it all over his straining erection.

“This might be the wettest you’ve ever been for me,” he murmured, fixing his position as she turned her back and braced herself against the door. “Wish we could get married all the time.”

She laughed, hiking up the train of her dress before pushing out her ass in invitation. “So long as you keep wearing that tux, you and I can play wedding-day in the bedroom as much as you like.”

He grinned, catching her eye as she looked back over her shoulder at him. “I love you.”

“Now and always,” she promised.

Anything else that might’ve been said was abandoned, swallowed up by pleasure as he pushed inside her and the two of them raced, fast and hard, to consummate the vows they’d declared not an hour before. If anyone heard the shouts from the back room, they didn't bother investigating.


	3. Anonymity

They were only supposed to kiss. That was the deal, the requirement, that was the beginning and the end of what they had signed up for. Go into this room, kiss a complete stranger in front of the cameras, and then leave. No talking, no exchanging of names, no hellos, nothing. It was all part of a study about intimacy. Or maybe the study part was a lie, and it was just an art project. Or _maybe,_ some weirdo was getting their rocks off at the expense of a bunch of saps who didn’t have a lover of their own to kiss.

She didn’t care; she hadn’t signed up because of the watchers, whoever they might be. She’d signed up because she couldn’t remember the last time she’d kissed someone and actually felt something. Loneliness had driven her to answer the ad, and to hope she might get something real out of it. She spent all morning trying to talk herself down. Telling herself it would be fine at best, gross at worst.

It wasn’t fine.

It wasn’t gross.

It was the best kiss of her life, and even just twenty seconds into it, she couldn’t imagine it ever ending. She felt like she was going to die if the two of them just walked out of here at the end without ever speaking to or seeing one another again, but she knew that was how it had to be. That was what they’d agreed to.

So she poured everything she had into the kiss. If he was going to leave here with a lasting impression of her, she wanted it to be this: how open and eager her mouth was for him, how crafty and teasing her tongue could be, how good her body felt pressed close against his. She latched her mouth onto his like she couldn’t breathe without him, and meanwhile let her hands roam, from his waist up his back and then down over his chest. He was strong. She could feel the muscles beneath his clothes, and she was aching to see them bare.

He kissed her back and touched her too, and it didn’t take very long before she felt his body start to respond in that telltale way no man could control.

“Sorry,” he gasped after a few minutes, breaking the kiss and stumbling away. His hands went to his waist, as if the bulge visible there could be so easily hidden. “It’s—it’s been a while for me. Please—um—please ignore that. I’m really sorry; I know that’s not what we’re here for.”

There was a bright red flush spreading from his neck up to his cheeks. He had to have at least a decade on her, and she realized as she stared at him that she didn’t think she’d ever seen a man that old blush. It was actually rather cute.

“It’s okay,” she told him. “You don’t have to apologize.”

She was very aware of the dampness that had been collecting between her legs for the last few minutes, and how grateful and frustrated she’d felt during the kiss, knowing he couldn’t feel how much she truly wanted him. She’d thought she was crazy, getting so wet from just kissing a man. But maybe, she thought as she took a step towards him, maybe she wasn’t that crazy. Maybe he felt the attraction too, just as strongly as she did. He was still trying to cover himself, and though he eyed her nervously as she approached, he didn’t retreat again. She took that as a good sign.

“You’re right that this isn't what we signed up for,” she began. “But I’d like to know…” Slowly, she reached out, prying his hands away from where they hid himself. She held them and looked up into his eyes, hoping this wouldn’t be the closest she’d ever get to knowing him. “Would you be open to us doing more than kissing?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Full disclosure, my original draft of today’s fill ballooned out to 2k words. But because this challenge is an exercise in _brevity,_ I made myself pare the daily fill down to what you just read above. This is all to say… You may see another Booker/Nile anonymous sex fic from me soon. :)
> 
> Hope you enjoyed this one! Comments and kudos are always appreciated. <3


	4. Lingerie

All Nile said was that she was trying to impress a man and Quynh, wonderful woman that she was, knew exactly what she meant and didn’t ask questions. She gave Nile the address of her favorite shop, the name of her favorite salesgirl, and she sent her on her way. Andy, as usual, was not so tactful.

“The fuck you need lingerie for?” Andy asked. “Just get naked. Trust me, whoever he is, he’ll be impressed by what you’ve got naturally. Men are easy like that.”

Nile ignored her, firstly because Andy was not exactly a paragon of fashion even on her best day, and secondly because she didn’t _want_ to go the easy route. She wanted to _try._ She wanted to put forth such an effort that Booker would be forced to finally, _finally_ notice her. As more than the baby of the group. As more than the friend he shared the downtime between missions with.

She wanted him to see her as a woman, goddamn it, a _real_ woman, who was mature and sexy and who very much wanted him as a man—between her legs and inside her body and all over her all of the time.

She didn’t tell Quynh any of that, of course, but something about the way Quynh smiled at her when she asked for help made Nile think that maybe she knew somehow. _Good luck with your shopping,_ she texted the morning of, and Nile reviewed that message throughout the day, drawing strength and confidence from it.

She spent hours cycling through one bra-and-panty set after another. She tried bodysuits and corsets, thongs and garter belts. She took pictures of the options she liked and sent them to Quynh for advice, all the while thinking about _him,_ and wondering what _he_ would like. What would Book want to see her in, given the choice?

_Nothing,_ her cruel heart told her. _He doesn’t want you_.

_Red_ , her more charitable side settled on. He’d like to see her in red. Or maybe white. Blue, perhaps, instead of the usual black. There were too many options, so Nile sent endless pictures to Quynh, asking for her opinion in between dodging messages from the rest of the team about where she was and why she’d been on radio silence all day.

By late afternoon, Nile was exhausted from all the shopping. She twisted in front of the mirror, trying to see herself the way he might. She was wearing [a lacy red teddy](https://www.adoreme.com/kaye-dark-red) with a neckline that plunged nearly all the way down to her navel. It looked good, she thought. It showed off her ass and thighs, even flattered her small breasts. It might be the one. Or maybe she was tired and giving up.

_What do you think?_ she texted Quynh hopefully, along with a few pictures. _Do you like this one?_

Quynh hadn’t answered any of her texts for a while now—no doubt she was sick of all the handholding—so Nile tossed her phone aside, not expecting an immediate reply. She returned to the mirror, running her hands over her body. She cupped her breasts and then smoothed her palms down over her abdomen. She closed her eyes and tried to imagine they were his hands, squeezing and stroking. She slid one between her legs, just to feel the warmth her core always exuded at the thought of him.

Nile heard her phone chime, and bent to retrieve it. In a speak-of-the-Devil moment, she found a text from Booker waiting there. Smiling at the mere reminder of his existence, she tapped open the message.

And then she froze.

She hardly even saw the one word he’d texted— _Wow_ —because all she could see was her side of the conversation. All she could see were those pictures, those questions. What were they doing in this thread? She’d texted _Quynh_. She’d been texting Quynh _all day._ Heart pounding, Nile clicked back over to her inbox, and felt a momentary flood of relief. She _had_ been texting Quynh all day, thank God. But somehow, in her struggle to answer other messages while avoiding the team chat, she’d pasted the images into the wrong thread.

She’d meant to send those last two pictures to Quynh, but instead she’d sent them to Booker.

“Fuck,” she hissed, fingers shaking as she struggled to tell him _Forget about it!; Just kidding!; Sorry, wrong number!_ Every excuse she came up with sounded just like that—an excuse. How was she supposed to come back from this? Even if she filled the screen with a wall of text, the pictures would still be there, so obvious and damning.

Just when she thought it couldn’t get any worse, she noticed his side of the screen animating. The little dots indicating he was typing appeared, disappeared, reappeared. She had about four cardiac events in the time it took him to type one sentence.

_I’m flattered you’re seeking my opinion on such an intimate purchase._

_I’m not,_ she texted back furiously, stabbing her thumb at the send button. And then, because she could so easily picture him laughing at her, she added for good measure, _Fuck off_.

Her heart slammed in her chest as she watched him write back. God, what if he was with the others right now? What if he’d shown them those pictures? She’d _specifically_ sent pictures only to Quynh, because she knew they wouldn’t be shared, not even with Andy. But Nile wouldn’t put it past Booker to—

_I’m curious,_ he texted. _Who is it you’re trying to impress with all that lace?_

Nile bit her lip, staring at the message. She typed out _None of your business_ , erased it. She typed _Wouldn’t you like to know?,_ added an snarky emoji, erased it. She drummed her fingers against the back of her phone, staring hopelessly into the screen, before looking back at her reflection in the mirror.

She looked good, god damn it.

And now she had nothing to lose.

So she simply texted back the truth.

_You._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think this is my favorite one yet. :)


	5. Blowjob

She woke him up on Sunday morning with a line straight out of a porno.

“I want to taste your cock.”

He groaned, still half-asleep but all too aware of the pressure between his legs, tenting his boxers and the sheets around them. He knew that’s what had brought about this particular wake-up call. The two of them had only recently started sleeping together—actually _sleeping_ together, in the same bed overnight—and she was overly fascinated by how often he woke up erect.

 _It goes away,_ he had gotten in the habit of telling her over the last few months, because it always did. Either it faded on its own after a few minutes, or at the rare times it persisted, he took care of it in the shower. Ever since she began spending nights at his place, they’d gotten in the habit of taking care of it together. Well, almost always together. More than once, he’d woken up to find himself already inside of her, her breasts bouncing as she rode his morning wood.

That was what he got, he supposed, for dating a woman not even out of her twenties.

It was a miracle he could still keep up with her, as mornings like this always served to remind him.

“Right now?” he mumbled, rubbing a hand over his eyes as he felt her move around the bed. “Can’t it wait until I eat something?”

“You always make me come so good with your mouth,” she replied, and he shivered when he felt her pull the sheets away. “I want to return the favor.”

“Don’t need you to,” he yawned, dropping his arm. “I’m fine with the way things are.”

He wasn’t _fine,_ exactly, but that was beside the point. They’d been dating for nearly a year. She should understand by now that pussy-eating was how he paid her back—for being interested in him in the first place; for putting up with his bad back and knees; for generally not flinching when he put his decidedly middle-aged hands on her much-younger body. It was impossible for her to return his so-called favors because every breath she drew in his presence was already favor enough.

When he opened his eyes, she was straddling him, wearing only a black t-shirt of his and a babyish pout.

“Don’t you want my mouth on you?” she asked. “I promise I’ll do my best.”

He groaned, throwing his head back against the pillows. She knew all too well what that sort of faux-coy pleading did to him. He was a weak old man and she played it to her advantage every damn time. He might hate her for it if he didn’t already love her so much.

She didn’t wait for an answer to her question. He felt her pulling down his boxers and then, before he’d so much as picked up his head, her tongue was licking its way up the shaft of his cock, from base to tip.

“Christ,” he muttered, abdomen clenching as he watched her suck him fully into her mouth. He grunted when she started bobbing her head and playing with his balls; he had to fist the sheets so he wouldn’t ruin her braids. “I’m not going to last very long,” he warned her.

Her eyes brightened knowingly, like she’d expected to hear that from him. He scowled at her, and when her shoulders shook, he knew it was from laughter. He would’ve made another face, but she took the opportunity to really work her tongue along the underside of his shaft, and he had to shut his eyes, curses spilling from his lips.

Soon enough, he was spilling into her mouth, his body seizing at the moment of pleasure, faster than he could think to warn her. She didn’t seem to mind, though, because he could feel her swallowing him down. She kept her mouth on him for minutes afterward, swiping her tongue all along the length of him, as if hungry for every last drop. The thought made his chest flush with heat, and he had to turn his head away.

When she’d had her fill, she crawled back up to the head of the bed, curling her body against his like a comma. He bent his forehead to hers, nuzzling their noses together before kissing her on the mouth.

“What the verdict?” he wondered, brushing his thumb against her lips. “You like the taste after all?”

She hummed at his touch, pressing even closer. “I can’t promise you’ll be seeing me on my knees every damn day,” she began, making him chuckle. “But yeah,” she whispered, smiling. “I like your taste. Just like I like you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, I’m back to say that _this_ might be my new favorite fill! I always struggle writing blowjob fics, but I’m pretty proud of how this one turned out. Modern!Book of Nile always makes me warm & fuzzy too.
> 
> Thanks for reading, everybody, and happy Friday!


	6. Size Kink

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am personally of the opinion that Book has a pretty average dick, and Nile likes that average dick very much, thank you. That being said… size kink fics are _so_ much fun to write, so here’s Book with a huge cock and Nile absolutely loving it to the point that she kind of loses her mind. ~~Please, I beg of you, don’t yell at me. I know this chapter is WAY too long but, much like our two friends here, I couldn’t stop and in fact I didn’t even try to.~~

He was big. That was the first thing Nile knew about him. Before she saw his face or heard his voice or tasted his mouth, she knew he was _big._ She could tell from the moment he placed his hands on either side of her waist on the dance floor. Without even straining, his fingertips nearly met over her navel. She leaned back into him in appreciation, reaching one hand behind her to find his neck. Her fingertips slid around the back to burrow in his hair. It was longer than she expected, thin and smooth. When she turned her face to the side, his mouth was waiting, ready for hers.

It was loud and dark in the club, and so she couldn’t see or hear him very well while they made out. She liked the cut of his hair, though, and the feel of his body behind hers, and she especially liked the little growl he gave off when she bit at his upper lip. He was good with his tongue without being suffocating or domineering. And his _hands…_

One was cupped around her stomach now, while the other rose up and squeezed her breast experimentally. She was all twisted up within his hold, her right hand in his hair, anchoring his mouth to hers, while her left guided his touch from one breast to another, silently teaching him that he didn’t have to be quite so gentle.

She would rationalize later that she must’ve been able to feel his cock the entire time, given how close they were dancing. But in the moment, she swore she didn’t realize how big he really was until he spun her around—as easy as if she were a toy ballerina—and crushed her hips to his. She moaned into his mouth when she felt his erection, the sound loud and filthy and utterly lost amidst the pounding of the bass. But she could tell he heard it, felt it, from the way his lips curved up against hers while they kissed.

One of his hands rose to the back of her neck, and she tensed, waiting for that dealbreaker moment, but he didn’t pull on her braids or even touch her hair. He just cupped the back of her neck, stroking his thumb gently along her jaw, and let his tongue and cock do all the convincing.

They made out for minutes, hours, days—she didn’t know and she didn’t care. She had melted into him so much by then that they were practically one being. She felt like she was egging herself on when she broke the kiss and shouted into his ear, “Know anywhere quiet?”

He didn’t have to be asked twice. He took her hand and suddenly they were moving, fast despite the crowds because he parted them easily and she floated along in his wake. As he made his way towards the back exit, Nile glanced over her shoulder to the bar. She caught Dizzy’s eye, not long enough to explain, but long enough to hear her friend shout, “Where the fuck you going with that white dude?”

Nile just grinned and raised her free hand in a wave, making no promises that she’d be back later.

And then a door in front of her was opening, there was a blast of cool air to counteract the pulsing heat of the club, and suddenly they were outside. The man who held her hand was tugging her along, first out into the alley and then, staggering as they made out, over to a free bit of clean wall space. He’d taken the time to find a spot away from the rank dumpsters, which she very much appreciated. She thought about telling him so, but his hands were already busy beneath her dress, and this didn’t seem like the time for thoughtful compliments.

“This for me?” he asked, breaking their kiss as he slid two fingers under her black thong. They played with her wetness before he pressed his middle finger inside, causing her to shudder. Even his _fingers_ were big, where the hell had this guy come from?

She looked up into his face as he worked her open, trying to remember his name. He’d shouted it at her earlier while they’d danced, but it had been hard to hear over the music. It was something with an _S,_ Simon or Sebastian or Samuel or Stephen. When he made her come just with his right hand, she decided names didn’t matter. Surely she could call him God and he’d answer to that.

It was a chilly fall night, but she felt scorching as he shoved her panties down past her ankles and then hefted her up into his arms. He lifted her like she weighed nothing, and she moaned loudly, not caring who heard. Strength in men had always turned her on. She wrapped her legs around his waist, bracing them both as he reached for the zipper of his jeans and shoved his underwear down his thighs.

“Holy fuck, you’re huge,” she gasped, unable to hide her shock at the sight of him finally bare and erect.

He glanced up with a smirk like he’d heard it all before—and like it didn’t get old.

“You worried it won’t fit, hm?”

She snickered at his cooing, watching as he rolled on a condom. If that was the game he wanted to play, fine. She could play.

“Just a little nervous,” she whispered, affecting a breathier voice than her usual as she slid her arms around his shoulders. “Never had anybody as big as you in me before, baby.”

Which, in all honesty, was actually true. He was bigger than her last boyfriend. Bigger than that hung guy she’d fucked in Miami two years ago. Bigger than… Well, anybody she’d ever seen in real life. She wondered if she’d be walking home bowlegged after this. The thought sent a thrill of arousal up her back, and she shivered.

“Don’t be scared,” he murmured, misreading her reaction. “I’m going to take good care of you.”

 _You already have,_ she thought, her body still relaxed from the earlier orgasm, but she didn’t correct him.

Instead she let him kiss her, making him work for that open mouth he liked so much. He took to the challenge happily, it seemed, licking and nibbling at the seam of her lips, trying his best to gain entry. She allowed him a few brief tastes, but for the most part she kept their kisses brief, focusing instead on how best to angle her body to take him in with minimal interference. His hands on her ass, pulling her down and out from the wall so they could be more level, helped more than anything she could do herself.

A moment later, she felt the wide head of his latex-covered cock pressing against her.

“Open for me now, beautiful,” he murmured against her lips, and she moaned, her body going slack all over at the sweet command.

He pushed inside, stretching her so wide she felt like her body was going to rip. He was doing all the work—holding her up, kissing her neck, setting the pace—but she was panting at the pressure and the heat of him. She clutched at his back and his hair, arching her hips into him, unable to stop wanting more. He pinched her nipple through her dress and she whimpered, jolting in his arms. He slid in a little deeper, and they both groaned.

“So tight,” he mumbled, pressing his forehead against the brick wall behind her back, giving them both a moment. “So fucking tight for me, feels so good.”

Nearly every woman in the world must feel this tight to him, Nile thought, but she loved the way he made her feel like he’d never had anyone else. The way he opened her wide made her feel like she'd never had another before, either. When he bottomed out inside her, she actually felt tears prick her eyes. She’d never been so completely filled before, and the feeling was so overwhelming that she couldn’t breathe at first.

When he started to move, it was slow and careful, and she knew he was holding everything back. She didn’t want that. She was letting a stranger fuck her in an alley in the middle of the night on a Saturday. She didn’t want any part of this to be half-assed, and she told him so. When he mumbled something about her not knowing what she was asking for, she kicked her heels against his ass. She knew what she was asking for. She wanted to be sore. She wanted to walk bowlegged. She wanted him to leave a mark on her that would last for days, inside and out.

When she told him as much, he didn’t disappoint. Sooner than she could’ve thought possible, she was shattering again, her whole body breaking open once more from his touch. She must’ve shouted, because he was shushing her, telling her to be quiet in case someone saw them, but she didn’t care. He was still moving inside her, working towards his own pleasure now, and yet somehow he was pulling her along with him, building her up again and again and again until—

The world went white, then black, then disappeared into nothingness and faraway sound.

All she could feel was him inside her, around her, all over her. Her heart, wild inside the cage of her chest, was beating so fast she wondered briefly if she could be dying. Was dying supposed to feel this good? Could she be in Heaven already?

“You still with me?” a distant voice asked. There was someone’s breath, hot in her face. “Hey, look at me, are you okay?”

Nile tried to nod, but mostly her head just lolled on her neck. Somehow she managed to say, “Good. _Real_ good.” But her voice sounded strange. Like she was someone else entirely. Was it possible to come so hard you lost your whole sense of self?

“I’m gonna put you down, okay?”

 _Don’t_ , she wanted to say. _Keep holding me. Keep fucking me._

But as she came back fully to earth, she knew her body couldn’t take any more, no matter what her mind might long for. Her legs were shaking as he set her on the concrete, and she had to look down in order to steady herself. There, crumpled beneath her feet, she caught sight of the black thong she’d been wearing earlier. She felt the inexplicable urge to pick it up and hand it to him, like some kind of prize. Surely he would like a reward for all his hard work, right?

When she looked up, he was removing the condom, holding it in one hand while he yanked his underwear back up over his cock away. Christ, it looked big even soft. She could swear he was bigger flaccid than most guys were erect. Had that really just been inside her?

 _Yes,_ her body testified when she tried to move. The soreness went deep, and was spreading fast, but she found she welcomed the pain. Like the ache after a good workout, her body felt exhausted but refreshed, well on its way to better things.

She fixed her dress, doing her best to covertly stretch her cramped calves while he walked a few paces to the nearby dumpsters and disposed of the condom. Nile took the opportunity to take a few tentative steps out into the middle of the alley. Fuck, bowlegged was right. At least she got what she wanted.

Freed of the mess of the condom, she watched his back as he adjusted himself and did up his pants. She wondered what they were supposed to do now. Say goodbye? Go back into the club together? Head off to their separate homes?

Dizzy would kill her for the abandonment, but the last thing Nile wanted was to go back into that club. And she didn’t particularly feel like going home, either. Mind moving sluggishly, she hadn’t come up with a solution by the time he turned around. He pulled up short at the sight of her so close, and Nile felt a thrill of delight at being capable of catching someone as big as him off guard.

Her mouth started to form the words _I should go,_ but instead what came out was, “Are you hungry?”

He blinked at her, looking as surprised as she felt. She didn’t know where that question had come from, though now that she’d mentioned it, she _was_ starving. When had she and Dizzy gotten dinner? Six? That had been over five hours ago. And with all the energy they’d just exerted, not to mention all the dancing beforehand…

“I could eat, sure.” He took an awkward step closer. “What, uh, what is it you have in mind?”

“Don’t know,” she admitted with an embarrassed smile. “Pizza or something? Maybe burgers. Carbs,” she added decisively, and he laughed, causing her smile to widen into a grin.

“Carbs sound good,” he agreed. He ran a hand through his hair, glancing towards the mouth of the alley, and she took the cue to lead the way. Despite his longer legs, he fell into step beside her as she took them north. Three blocks passed in silence before she realized that if she was going to eat a meal with this man, she should probably actually know his name instead of guessing after it.

“Sébastien,” he answered when she asked, and she silently congratulated herself for having the forethought to check first. She could’ve sworn he’d said his name was Simon earlier.

“Nile,” she offered. “Like the river.”

“Nice to meet you, Nile.”

She smiled, slowing down as they reached the pizzeria. “Yeah, nice to meet you too.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoyed that. There may or may not be more big!cock Book content coming in the future… because apparently I’m really into size kink now… Every day a new discovery. 😅
> 
> Comments are the best kind of writing fuel <3


	7. Naked Cuddling

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Isn’t this just the perfect prompt for a lazy Sunday? I’ve been doing a little lottery to decide which prompts I write on which days, and I love that this one happened to fall on a Sunday. Hope you enjoy. :)

The thunder woke her sometime after three AM. Nile lay in bed for a few minutes, eyes closed as she listened to the drone of rain against their low roof. Whenever the wind shifted, the windows shook as if threatening to break and expose their home fully to the storm. Nile silently marveled at the deluge, surprised by its ferocity so late in the spring. She pulled the comforter up over her bare shoulders before curling close to her husband.

Sébastien was still asleep, fully gone to the world, and Nile did her best not to wake him as she pressed her bare front against his back. He ran so hot that he always slept naked in the warm months, and tonight was no exception. She hummed at the heat his body gave off; she was usually cold in bed, and heh so often he acted as her own personal furnace. She draped an arm around his side, and nuzzled her face against the back of his neck, breathing him in deep. She loved the way he smelled in their bed. Loved the way their bed smelled like him.

Lightning flashed somewhere in the distance, and Nile counted the seconds until the thunder echoed through the valley. She knew she should go and check the kitchen, make sure the roof wasn’t leaking again, but she couldn’t make herself get up. She was too comfortable here, all wrapped around him. Unable to resist stealing more of his warmth, she slid one of her legs between his, delighting at the feel of his coarse hair against her smooth skin.

“Mm,” her husband grunted softly, coming awake. “Wa’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” she murmured, kissing the back of his neck. “Didn’t mean to wake you. Go back to sleep.”

She hadn’t even finished talking before his hand was reaching back, seeking out her bare flesh too. Nile smiled into his back as his fingertips traveled from her ribcage down to her ass. He found a handful and pulled her closer, turning his head to the side so they could kiss over his shoulder. She closed her eyes, pressing her naked breasts close against his back and sinking more fully into him as their mouths joined and then broke.

“Mm.” He made a soft noise of appreciation, resting his forehead against hers. His hand was still on her ass, his thumb rubbing gently over the curve of one cheek. “Did you wake me up looking for something?”

She shook her head, yawned. When the wind changed directions and the rain lashed sharply against the windows, she shivered involuntarily.

“Cold, love?” he murmured, not waiting for an answer before turning around to face her. Hewrapped both of his arms around her and pulled her close until she was practically laying on top of him. She smiled and gave in to his embrace, happy as always to share the heat he gave off. She knew he liked to feel her soft, warm flesh just as much as she liked to feel his.

For a while, they lay in silence, letting the storm do all the talking. Gradually, the dark clouds moved off, and the rain lessened to a drizzle. Nile kept herself busy by tracing invisible patterns along the curve of his bare shoulder and arm. She connected the dots of freckles and moles, joined the subterranean lines of one blue vein to another as if making river maps.

“What are you thinking about?” he asked after a while.

She sucked in a breath, deep and slow, and let it go. “Nothing,” she answered honestly. “You?”

“Hm.” He adjusted himself slightly beneath her, yawning softly. “Breakfast,” he answered.

She snickered, turning her head so she could meet his eye. “Oh yeah? What will breakfast be?”

“An omelette,” he replied at once. “I’ll use the rest of the spinach we got at the market. Peppers and onions. Tomatoes. Need to check on the cheese situation, because I don’t remember if we… What?” he asked, noticing the look on her face.

“I used the last two eggs.” Her mouth twisted in a grimace. “Yesterday. Sorry.”

He groaned. “Well, thanks a lot. Now my day is ruined before it’s even begun.”

She pressed an apologetic kiss to his chest. “Sorry, baby.”

“First you wake me up at three AM for no reason, now you tell me we’re out of eggs.” He let out dramatic sigh. “Do you exist solely to torture me?”

She laughed, and settled her head down against his chest as if it were a pillow. She rubbed her hands up and down his sides, warming them both.

“Let’s brainstorm some backup options,” she suggested, closing her eyes. “How about pancakes? Bacon?”

“Now that I know we don’t have eggs, the only thing I want is eggs.”

“Well, then you can go to the store and get more.”

“If anybody should be going to the store, it’s you. You stole my breakfast out from under me. Like a thief.”

“It was an innocent mistake and you know it,” Nile yawned.

She slid off of him, moving onto her side against the mattress. Like a magnet, he followed behind her, curling his body perfectly around hers. She hummed softly as one of his hands traveled from her hip to her stomach before coming to rest on her right breast. He cupped her there, not exerting any pressure whatsoever, and listened to the soft sounds of her contentment.

“I love when you hold me like this,” she whispered.

He kissed the back of her shoulder. “I know you do, baby.”

She sighed softly, letting her eyes fall closed once more. “I am sorry about the eggs, you know.”

His laughter was a low huff of warmth against the back of her ear. “It’s fine, love. I’ll eat something else.”

“Nothing’s going to be as good, though.”

“Stop it,” he muttered, nipping lightly at her shoulder. “Be nice to me.”

“I try,” she yawned. “But it isn’t very fun.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, we made it through week one of March! Only three left! Thanks to everybody who has read and commented so far, it’s been really fun seeing your reactions! You’re all making this March feel a little less lonely than the last, which is quite honestly doing wonders for my mental health. I hope in turn these stories have brightened your days a bit. One day soon we too will reach spring. <3
> 
> Thank you, as always, for reading.


	8. Body Worship

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fandom (myself happily included!) seems to always write Book as being utterly devoted to making Nile come as often as possible. In this chapter, I wanted to give the man a chance to enjoy himself for a change. Or at least… to try to. ;)

“I’m going to have to tie you down if you keep doing this,” Nile warned, smacking his hands away as they attempted to sneak back up her thighs and around her ass. She glared at the man lying beneath her. “I’m serious, Book. Hands to yourself.”

“Why?” he complained, squirming impatiently beneath her. “How is me touching you breaking any rules?”

“Because this isn’t _about_ me,” she stressed, smoothing her palms over his chest, a reminder for him to lay flat. She pressed kisses along the well-defined lines of his abdomen, smiling when she felt him shiver as she went lower. “This is about _you,_ my love, and learning how to accept pleasure without needing to reciprocate.”

“But I _like_ reciprocating.”

He was practically whining now, and Nile had to bite her lip so she wouldn’t smile. _Like_ was an understatement, she thought. He was _obsessed_ with reciprocating. Obsessed with overcompensating, actually, though she couldn’t imagine what he was overcompensating for. She hadn’t exactly kept close track of their sexual exploits over the years, but she would bet that their orgasm ratio was at least two to one, if not three to one. For too long, she’d let him get away with inundating her with pleasure, simply because he so obviously wanted to and what was the point of stopping him?

But it was past time, she had finally decided, to start evening up that score.

So far, she’d made him come three times today. It was only through the grace of God that she herself remained unsatisfied, though he was very much doing his best to rectify that. Every moment was a struggle to deny him, but the more impatient he got, the more staunch she became. She’d made it this far—and she wouldn’t come today, no matter how badly she wanted to. Today was about him, and only him.

“Be selfish for once, won’t you?” she murmured against his abdomen. “Lay back and enjoy what I’m giving you.”

Before he could reply, she wrapped a hand around his ever-present erection, squeezing it tight enough to make him groan.

“I love your cock,” she whispered, rubbing her thumb reverently over the swollen head. “I love the way it feels in my hand. In my mouth.” She licked the shining bit of pre-come that was leaking out. “I love your taste and the way you fill me so very well.”

“Yeah?” he grunted, fisting the rails of the headboard so he wouldn’t thrust up into her mouth. “You want me to fill you, baby? Hm? You want my cock in you? Is that it?”

Nile smiled, knowing what he was getting at, and shook her head.

“Yes, you do,” he murmured, twisting his hips side to side as she jerked him off slowly. “I know you want me in you. I know you want me to make you come.”

“No,” she replied, bending her head down to suck gently at his balls. “I really don’t.”

“Let me… Oh, fuck,” he grunted, screwing up his face as she toyed with him. “Let me use my… Fuck… Nile, come _on._ Let me use my mouth on you. I know you’re soaking wet. I can see how slick your thighs are, baby, come on, let me clean them up. Let me taste you, give you a little treat. You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”

Heat coiled in her stomach at the offer, but she made herself focus. So long as she busied her mouth with his cock, she wouldn’t be obligated to reply to any of his teasing offers. He swore, low and furious, as her lips descended down his shaft.

“Christ,” he groaned, white-knuckling the headboard above him. He exerted so much pressure, he nearly lifted his body off the bed. She placed her hands on his hips, squeezing tight in an effort to encourage him to stay in place. “Fucking hell,” he panted, unable to take his eyes off her as she went to work. “You’re a demon.”

Her eyes flickered up, full of mischief as they caught his gaze.

“My own personal demon,” he repeated darkly, sharing none of her amusement.

His chest and face were going blotchy with color, and she savored the sight. How he had enough blood in his body to go anywhere but his cock at a time like this, she’d never understand, but she loved the shades he turned when he became excessively aroused. More than once, she’d thought of painting him like this—if only he would let her keep him on edge long enough to get the colors mixed right.

“It’s impossible to escape you, Nie. Impossible to deny you.” He shut his eyes. “I think I might hate you.”

She choked with laughter at that, and she had to pull off so she wouldn’t make a mess all over him.

“You _hate_ me? Seriously?”

“What do you expect me to say?” he groaned, slamming his head back against the mattress. “You’ve been torturing me all day!”

She snickered. “My love, you are the only person on earth who would consider a day of orgasms torture.”

“I’m also the only person on earth who has _you_ doling them out.”

“That’s true,” she smiled. She waited until he’d picked up his head again before returning her tongue to licking along his shaft. “And just so you know, I’m nowhere near close to being done with you today.”


	9. Possessive/Jealous Sex

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Possessive!Book is my absolute favorite Book. FYI, the sex below is rough but very much consensual. There’s also an instance of name-calling, because why not.

Nile knew something was off the moment she stepped into her hotel room. Something in the air, something unnameable had been altered. She let the door fall shut behind her loudly, hesitating only a second to scan her surroundings before making a beeline for the gun she had hidden beside the bed.

She didn’t get more than four steps before strong arms wrapped around her from behind, yanking her back. Adrenaline spiked her bloodstream immediately, and she readied herself to fight off the intruder, but then—

Then, she felt his hand curl around her breast. She felt another sliding its way between her thighs. He squeezed her sensitive flesh roughly, and she shuddered, knowing the heat of ownership when she felt it. Only one person had ever touched her like this. She shut her eyes, desire flooding her veins as that familiar mouth descended on her neck, sucking at her indestructible skin.

Where he had come from, she had no idea. Why he had come—well, she could feel the reason, hard against her lower back. It set her heart pounding, but she tried to keep the want out of her voice when asked him, “Do the others know you’re here?”

“Do you think I’d be here if the others knew?”

His voice was quiet, but she could hear the undercurrent of fury. It set her whole body alight, and she knew if he hadn’t had his arms around her, her knees would’ve buckled and sent her to the ground.

“You said you could handle this,” she reminded him. It was the only reason she’d said yes to this extended undercover mission. Because he promised he wouldn’t lose it, watching her be with someone else. Watching her be someone else’s.

“Yeah, well. I lied.”

She opened her mouth to reply, but suddenly the hand between her legs had tired of barriers, and was shoving beneath her dress, beneath her panties. She swore loudly when he rubbed his thumb against her clit, shuddering as his other fingers played with what wetness had accumulated over the last hour or so, spreading it around.

“I see your date went well,” he commented casually, and her face flamed in humiliation even as her body sang at his touch.

Her arms were trapped by his, but she managed to wrap one hand around his forearm, clutching it in silent encouragement as he teased her wet core. _It’s for you,_ she wanted to say, but they both knew that would be a lie. And something told her he wouldn’t take kindly to lies at this juncture, so she kept her mouth shut.

“Nothing to say for yourself, hm?” His mouth was still on her neck, sucking one angry welt after another.“Well, I’m glad _one_ of us enjoyed themselves tonight.”

Nile whined, turning her head to the side, seeking out his mouth. He rebuffed her, choosing instead to adorn her neck with fading mark after fading mark. Even while she knew it was best that they disappeared, Nile couldn’t help but wish they would stay. She wanted a souvenir of him once he was gone again. She squeezed her thighs together, desperate for him to do more than talk and steal kisses.

“Please,” she begged when she couldn’t take anymore. “Please, Book, don’t play with me. Don’t tease.”

“You’re calling _me_ a tease? After how you acted tonight?”

“ _I_ have a job to do,” she snapped back.

“Yes, and you’re very good at it,” he growled. She knew what insult was coming next, but the word still made her pussy flood when he told her, “You looked like such a whore tonight.”

 _“Booker!”_ she gasped, grinding herself down against his hand. “Please—”

“The others were very impressed. They didn’t think you had it in you.” His voice went low and dark: “But I knew you did.”

Before she could respond, he let her go and then shoved her down onto the bed. She fell on her stomach, just barely catching herself with her forearms. She could hear the sound of his pants coming undone, his hand stroking his cock, and what seemed like only a second later, he was yanking her ass up, and she trembled, rushing to get onto her hands and knees under her. He didn’t bother stripping her naked, he just threw the hem of her dress up over her back and then ripped her flimsy panties clean off. She moaned at his ferocity, head bent as she waited for onslaught.

She knew he was going to fuck her hard and fast and rough and she couldn’t remember the last time she’d been this turned on waiting to take it. In the month before she left for the mission, their lovemaking had been nothing but slow and soft and loving. Over and over, they’d drowned in each other as if they were breakable, as if they would never see one another again. She’d missed this darker side to their passion.

She felt his cock slide between her legs, and whimpered as he rubbed the hard length of his shaft against her wet slit.

“You want it?” he taunted, holding her hips still to stop her from grinding down against him for her own pleasure. “You gonna beg me for it, Nile?”

 _“Yes,”_ she panted, not even bothering to resist. “Yes, please, give it to me. Please, I need—”

He didn’t even wait for her to finish before he shoved himself inside. They both groaned, low and throaty, as he sheathed himself fully on the first thrust.

“So good,” she gasped, struggling to stay upright on her hands and knees. “Fuck, you feel so good. I’ve missed you.”

He rode her fast and hard, slamming his cock into her without mercy. The room filled with the sounds of their labored breaths and moans and the rhythmic clap of her ass slapping against his hips again, again, again—

He came with a guttural growl, shooting his come deep inside her before shoving her off his dick and back down onto her stomach. As he stood behind her, swaying slightly at the force of his orgasm, his cock twitched, spraying a few extra drops onto the backs of her legs and the bedspread. Nile lay there panting, strung out, so close she could only mewl for her own release. She fully expected him to grab her by the ankles, yank her to the edge of the bed, and throw her thighs over his shoulders before diving in headfirst with his tongue. He was pathologically incapable of passing up any opportunity to feast on her cunt, and she was certain he’d take full advantage tonight.

But instead, all she heard was the rustle of tissues being used, his pants being fixed, and the unmistakable sound of a zipper being done up. Heart pounding in a mix of arousal and disbelief, Nile pushed herself up onto one forearm, turning her head to look back at him. He was busy buttoning up his jeans, as if they were somehow finished.

“Book?” she breathed, not understanding what she was seeing. It became clearer as he started to step away. “Hey, you think you can leave me like this?” She raised her voice to a shout: “The fuck do you think you’re doing? Booker!”

“Feeling unsatisfied, love?” He smirked, a wicked glint in his eyes as he backed away. “Why don’t you call your new boyfriend, hm? I’m sure he’d be happy to finish what I started.”

“Sébastien, you _utter_ asshole—” She was tripping over herself and her words as she struggled to get up and yell at the same time. “You piece of absolute sh—”

“Sorry,” he interrupted, gesturing to the door, “but I’ve got to run now. See you in six months, right?”

She stared after him in shock, unable to come up with a response until she heard the door open.

“I’m going to remember this!” she yelled after him. It was the only threat she could think of.

“Oh, mon cœur…” Even with his back turned, she could hear him smile. “I sure hope you do.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Feedback is fuel <3


	10. Nipple Play

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you’ve read [_Party for One,_](https://archiveofourown.org/works/29132640) you’ll know I love giving our girl sensitive nipples. This time, Booker gets a chance to play with them.

The silver dress wasn’t meant to be worn with a bra. Nile didn’t think much of this fact until she put it on the night of and then stepped out to meet Booker on the sidewalk. Her nipples went hard immediately, and she knew from the way his eyes dropped and then immediately returned to her face that the reaction was obvious.

She told herself it was just the cool September breeze setting her off.

It wasn’t the way he looked, standing there waiting for her in that dark suit. It wasn’t the perfect line of his jaw or casual sweep of his newly cut hair or the piercing look in his eyes.

It’s just cold outside, she told herself, taking the hand he offered to help her inside as he opened the door to the car. The cold, of course, didn’t explain why she felt the need to keep her legs crossed for the entirety of the twenty-minute drive to the benefit, but thankfully she wasn’t asked to explain her posture. For the most part, they rode in silence, though every time Booker happened to glance her way, Nile felt her nipples tingle, straining against the fabric of her dress.

The night was long and boring and after four hours in heels, Nile’s feet and legs were aching. The targets they were scoping out were not being very helpful, either. Instead of behaving like the monstrous villains the team knew they to be, they were doing their best to put on a show, acting like philanthropic citizens. The boredom was only broken up by moments of anxiety and embarrassment, mostly when she and Booker took to the dance floor to blend in.

Nile had had very little experience slow-dancing in her life, but she did her best to follow his lead. She watched the other women in the crowd, trying to discern how it was that they knew exactly where to put their feet and how to angle their bodies. It wasn’t until she stepped on his foot for the fifth time that he laughed and took her by the hand, pulling her to the edge of the floor.

“You don’t know how to dance at all, do you?” he asked with a smile.

“Not like this,” she admitted, face warm. “I’m sorry. Did I hurt your feet?”

“Ah, I’ve had worse.” She could tell he was lying, but she appreciated the kindness. “Here,” he said, leading her to a bit of open space at the opposite end of the room. “Let me teach you the basics.”

For fifteen minutes they practiced, and while she focused on the steps, he kept an eye on their targets. Still nothing of note there; the others would be disappointed. Near the end of the night, when she finally had the steps down and had gotten through three dances without trodding on his toes, they rejoined the larger crowd of dancers.

When Booker tugged her to his chest on the main floor, Nile had to bite her tongue so she wouldn’t squeak at the friction against her nipples. Was he holding her closer than usual? He had to be. She hadn’t felt this on edge before, when they’d been practicing a moment ago. She could swear as they turned about the room that he was moving closer to her with each step, causing their chests to rub against each other’s. After a few minutes, the stimulation was too much, and she couldn’t help the way her breathing changed, becoming heavier and shorter as they continued dancing.

“Sensitive?” he murmured after a few minutes, and she nodded once. What point was there in hiding it? He obviously knew. Her nipples were so hard they probably felt like daggers to him, even through his suit.

“Very,” she whispered, swallowing hard.

“Well,” he commented, spinning her out and then drawing her back sharply to his chest, “that’s fun.”

In order to stifle the moan that was threatening, Nile tucked her head against his shoulder, like she’d seen the other women do with their partners. It was surprisingly comfortable, in spite of how on edge she felt. She let him lead, and tried to focus on anything except her want for him, pulsing from the twin points of her chest and deep within her legs.

“May I ask,” he began quietly as they turned, “are they always like this?”

Nile lifted her head cautiously from his shoulder, feeling utterly exposed under his close gaze. “For as long as I can remember, they’ve always been… really sensitive,” she answered carefully. His eyes watched her, his face serious as ever. She couldn’t help but think that he didn’t look appeased. She swallowed, hoping she wasn’t ruining everything when she added, “But they only stay hard like this if I’m… especially aroused.”

“So you’re aroused right now?”

“Yes,” she whispered. There was no shame anymore; she was too far gone for shame.

They were still dancing, but only because he was putting forth the effort. She was simply being twirled about. It was impossible to look away from his eyes as he weighed what to say next.

“Am I arousing you, Nile?” he asked finally.

“Yes,” she whispered again. Her stomach felt like it was going to drop out of her body.

His serious face split in a relieved smile.

“Oh, I hoped it was me,” he whispered. “I was scared you were like this for everyone.”

“I’m not,” she replied urgently. It was suddenly very important that he knew that. “Booker, it’s never been like this for me, not with anyone else.”

“We should go,” he said quickly, and even though the benefit wasn’t technically wasn’t over, Nile nodded. They both knew this mission had been a bust as far as tactics were concerned.

In the car, they waited until the dark partition rose between them and the driver before he reached over and pushed the straps of her silver dress off her shoulders, exposing her breasts and her hard little nipples, finally, to his hungry gaze.

“Oh, Nile,” he whispered, watching her chest rise and fall with each heaving breath. Her nipples were dark and thick, standing tall and eager.

She gasped aloud when he brushed his thumb very gently against the tip of her right nipple, her whole body reacting to his touch.

“Good Lord,” he whispered in awe, his eyes rising to her face. “You weren’t exaggerating about being sensitive, were you?”

She shook her head, biting down hard on her lip to hold in any other noises that might escape as he played with her.

“Stop that,” he murmured, brushing his thumb against her lower lip until her teeth released it. “I want to hear the sounds you make when I touch you.”

“I don’t think I can be quiet,” she warned.

“Good. I don’t want quiet,” he replied, pressing his thumbnail experimentally against one dark nipple, driving it back into the soft flesh of her breast, causing her to shiver and squeak. “How do you like them to be touched, Nile? Can I pinch them? Or will that make you come too fast?”

Nile sucked in a breath at the very idea of such a thing. Even with her nipples as sensitive as they were, she didn't think it was even possible to climax from nipple stimulation alone. She’d always needed clitoral stimulation to come. Her heart twisted a little. Would he be disappointed if she didn’t come for him the way he wanted?

“Booker, I—I don’t think I can come just from… that kind of touch.”

“We could find out,” he offered. His fingers swirled around her areola, making her tense. “But only if you want to, of course.”

“Oh,” she released a breath. “I want to.”

They didn’t make it three blocks before she shattered for him.

“I’m curious,” he mused afterwards, smiling as he watched her catch her breath. “How many times do you think I can make you come tonight, just by playing with your nipples?”


	11. Dirty Talk

“I don’t know what you’re so nervous about,” Booker told her, only half paying attention to her face on screen as he went about organizing yet another bookshelf. He was always organizing bookshelves during their their video calls. “Dirty talking isn’t that difficult. Just tell him you want his cock.”

“Jesus, Book—I am _not_ using that word!”

“Well, you can’t say ‘penis,’ Nile,” Booker sighed. “It’s just not sexy. Neither is ‘dick,’ really. You’re too American to pull off ‘prick.’”

“Well, I can’t say—” Nile broke off, turning her head away from the screen, too embarrassed to even look at him.

It was times like these that made her grateful he lived halfway across the world in exile and was forbidden from talking to the others. Technically, he was forbidden from talking to her, too, but she took pity on him a few years after his banishment, reached out to check in, and now they had semi-regular video calls where they rambled on about anything under the sun.

Today, she’d made the mistake of mentioning she was dating a guy who was intent on expressing his desire for her through X-rated texts. And then she’d gone and made the second mistake of admitting that she never knew how to respond to such texts.

And now Booker was grinning at her, his stacks of books forgotten as he zeroed in instead on her embarrassment. “Go on,” he encouraged. “What is it you can’t say?”

“Oh, shut up,” she snapped, gathering up her braids for something to do. She didn’t have a hair tie around her wrist, so she ended up pulling them into the shape of a ponytail only to have to let them go. She really needed to start thinking things through more when it came to these video calls.

“It’s not that scary of a word, Nile. Think of it as a rooster.”

“It is _not_ a rooster.”

He snickered, turning back to his books. “You’re being such a baby about this, and I don’t understand why. Your generation has it so easy, you know. All you have to do is type out the words and hit send. You’ve barely even interacting with the person. Back in my day—”

“Okay, grandpa.”

“Back in _my_ day,” he continued loudly, “we actually had to actually say the words to each other. Face to face. No hiding behind screens or relying on the internet for inspiration. We had to think up every word we said, all on our own, and then watch the other person’s face as we said them in real time.”

“Wow,” Nile commented dryly. “How difficult for you. And what did your old-timey dirty talk sound like, huh? ‘Please, fair maiden, might I fondle your bosom’?”

He snorted. “Believe it or not, the words _tits_ and _cunt_ existed in the eighteenth century.” Nile felt something in her gut twinge at hearing him say those words. “I was more than capable of telling my wife how much I appreciated those parts of her body, among others.”

Nile nodded along, doing her best to keep her expression neutral even as she burned with curiosity. She could still remember the grief in his face the first time he’d ever told her what it had been like to outlive his sons. He had rarely spoken of them in the years since. But he was not nearly so reluctant when it came to his wife, she soon discovered. Whenever he talked about her, Nile could see glimpses of what a happy life he’d led, and what a happy man he’d been, when they had been together. Sometimes she couldn’t resist pressing for a little more detail.

“So you… you and your wife liked that kind of thing?” Nile asked carefully. “Talking like… that?”

“Doesn’t everyone? I mean, sure,” he allowed with a shrug in her direction, “it can be awkward at first. But once you know the person, how their mind works, how their body reacts… Finding the right words to heighten their pleasure can be extremely rewarding.”

Only he, who read books the way some people breathed air, would find the proper use of words in bed _rewarding._

Then again, Nile reasoned, feeling herself get a little warm, if he was good enough at it… She crossed her legs under her desk. She was sorely tempted to ask if he’d ever made his wife come just with his words. It sounded impossible, and yet… somehow, she wouldn’t put it past him.

“You never told me what your go-to line was,” Nile heard herself say. "What did you guys talk about way back when?” She knew she was treading into unforgivably intimate territory here, but she couldn’t seem to stop. And judging by the smirk spreading across on his face, he didn’t seem to mind.

“It was the 1700s,” he reminded her. “What do you _think_ we talked about?”

“Um…” Nile hesitated, confusion clouding her interest. Why was he asking that question like she was supposed to know the answer? Why would she, a woman born in the 1990s, have any idea what people who lived in the 1700s were titillated by? Did they have orgies back then? They must’ve been so deprived of entertainment; maybe sex in the town square was a common fantasy?

“I don’t know,” she admitted. “What?”

“Sons, Nile. We got off talking about how we were going to make sons together.”

 _Oh._ Nile’s stomach swooped low, as if her feet had been knocked out from under her, and it took her a second to recover.

“Sons,” she heard herself clarify, “but not daughters?”

He laughed. “Really? You’re going to rake me over the coals for _that?”_

“Just an observation.”

“Oh, come on. It was over two hundred years ago; we had different priorities than people do today.”

“Ah, the ‘different time’ defense. A real classic.”

He shook his head, but she saw him smile as he turned back to his books. She let him sort through them in silence, just barely holding back from asking if such talk still turned him on. As her mind wandered, Nile had a sudden flash of the two of them in bed—him on top and pressing deep inside her, murmuring about how beautiful she’d look carrying his child.

Her whole body went hot all at once, and she had to look away—at the wall, out the window, anywhere except at his face to remind herself of reality. Where in the world had that fantasy come from? And why was it making her feel like this?

“So, do you know what you’re going to text him next time?”

Nile jumped at the sound of Booker’s voice, her eyes finding his through the camera. She hoped the nature of her distraction wasn’t clear on her face.

“Um, sort of,” Nile lied, glad he couldn’t see the desperate way she was squeezing her thighs together beneath her desk. “But I might need more advice down the line, if… if you don’t mind.”

“You know me,” Booker said, oblivious to the way her eyes tracked him as he turned back to his stacks of novels. “Always happy to help.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Since I already work dirty talk into so many of my fics on the regular, I felt like taking a bit of a silly/sentimental spin on this fill. I hope you don’t mind. :)
> 
> As ever, thank you very much for reading! Comments are always welcome <3


	12. Clothes On

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can’t believe I haven’t come across a fic where these two fuck against a bookshelf. I took it upon myself to right this wrong.

Booker was scanning through yet another shelf on Russian history when Nile came up behind him and slung her arms over his shoulders, pulling at him impatiently. Without looking away from the shelves, he tilted his chin to press a kiss to her arm.

“Just a minute,” he murmured, tracing a finger along the spines, scanning decimal by decimal as he crouched down to examine a lower shelf. “It’s here somewhere. I just need a quick look and then we’ll go, I promise.”

A quick look, sure. They had been wandering through the stacks of this university library for the last two hours and Nile, for her part, was sick of it. Why he had to run these sorts of endless errands when they had time off together was beyond her. After so many decades, though, she had stopped complaining. Recently, she’d thought up a much more useful alternative.

“You know what I’m thinking about right now?” she whispered in his ear.

He wasn’t listening. He was never listening when there were books at his fingertips.

“You told me once,” she continued, “how you’d always fantasized about having sex in a library.”

He froze, still bent at the knees. And then all at once, he shot back up to his full height. Nile nearly fell over, trying to avoid his skull crashing into hers. His hand gripping her arm kept her close.

“This is university library, Nile,” he reminded her in a strained voice. “There are cameras all over the place.”

“Yeah, and how often are they checked?” She smiled, enjoying the pained look on his face. “Come on,” she whispered, pressing her chest close against his he could feel how hard her nipples were through her dress and know that she wasn’t wearing a bra anymore. The realization caused his eyes to flutter closed. When he cursed, he looked like an animal caught in at trap, and so she took pity on him, taking his chin in hand and kissing him. Then she leaned up on her tiptoes to whisper in his ear, “I took off my underwear in the bathroom, too. Wanted to give you easy access.”

He groaned, deep in the back of his throat.

“I want you to fuck me against the stacks,” she said, taking his hand. “Let’s find ourselves a dark corner.”

They ended up on the deserted lower level, back in the far corner where the university kept outdated magazines and other flimsy bits of paper no one who grew up with internet access would ever bother touching. They made three laps of the stacks to make sure no one was around before Nile found a shelf of old encyclopedias, deemed it sturdy enough to support what was coming to it, and leaned back against it. She watched with a grin as Booker came close, bracing himself with one arm against the shelf as his mouth descended on hers with surprising fierceness. Nile moaned softly, pressing her hips up into his. She could feel him getting hard, and she smiled when he didn’t hesitate before slipping a hand under the hem of her dress.

“Damn it, Nile,” he muttered against her mouth.

She smiled, sighing softly as he slid two fingers easily into her damp opening. “Wanted to give you easy access,” she reminded him, and the words were hardly out of her mouth before he was reaching down and hefting her up in his arms.

She just barely managed to stifle a shout of laughter, throwing her arms around his shoulders as he pressed her up against the stacks with his pelvis, using the pressure to hold her in place while he worked the button and zipper of his pants.

“I must be insane,” he muttered under his breath, and Nile just smiled, pulling him close for another kiss.

She wrapped her legs around his backside, arching forward to take him in. He bent his head to her chest, needing a moment to recalibrate. And then, remembering she’d shed her bra earlier, he nosed open the neck of her dress to expose her breast and suck at her nipple. Nile moaned quietly, pressing herself into him—into his mouth, his hands, his body.

“More,” she demanded, and he obliged.

The shelf rattled and shook as he started to move and they both froze, wary of toppling books or worse, some kind of domino effect with falling shelves. But the encyclopedias stayed in their places, the shelf stayed upright, and so they kept going. Booker tried to keep things slow and measured, but it was impossible. Nile had her bare legs wrapped around his waist, her hands clutching at the shelf behind her for support, and there was the very real possibility they could get caught—and even if there weren’t, he wouldn’t be able to take his time with her like this, open and eager and wet for him, the smell of old books mixing with her perfume and sweat. It didn’t take long before he neared his climax, and Nile, rubbing at her clit with the free hand that wasn’t gripping the shelf, came with him.

They came down slowly, panting and sweating in the heat of the lower level and the aftermath of their exertions. When he pulled out, Nile shuddered, feeling the mix of their releases between her legs. She scolded herself for not thinking to grab extra toilet paper from the bathroom earlier. Booker set her down carefully, fixing her dress to cover her bare breast before tucking himself away and pulling up his pants.

Nile couldn’t help but twine her hands around the back of his neck as he did so, hugging him to her. They had been having sex for hundreds of years, and somehow, she felt closer to him every time. He smiled like he knew that, and felt it too. He kissed her hard on the mouth, hard enough that she fell back against the shelf again, moaning softly.

“God, I love you,” he murmured, taking her face in both his hands, pulling back only so he could look her in the eyes. “I love you, I love you, I love you.”

She grinned, kissing him again. “Love you too. Now, let’s go.”

He took her hand, tugging her close as they made their way up the stairs and back to the surface. They were heading past the check-out desk and almost to the exit when a stern voice called out.

“Sir. Ma’am. If you could step over here, please.”

Nile threw a smile at the clerk without stopping. “Oh, we don’t have anything to check out. We were just browsing.” She tipped her head fondly at Booker beside her. “This one had research to do.”

“I don’t need to speak to you about checkouts, ma’am,” the clerk replied firmly, and it was then that Nile really looked at her, and became aware of the campus security guard standing right beside her. “My colleague, however, would like to discuss another matter with you both…”

Nile could feel Booker’s hand around hers, squeezing in a death grip now, but she refused to look over at him. She could feel his spent come, dripping slowly down the inside of her right thigh, and she knew it couldn’t be long before it slid out past the hemline of her dress, just another bit of damning evidence. The security guard was stepping towards them, saying something about wanting to speak in private, and making it very clear that he’d already contacted the city police force.

“I think,” Booker whispered urgently in French, “now would be a very good time for us to run.”

Nile nodded slowly, doing her best to discreetly slip off her flip-flops as the security guard neared. When the man reached out to grab her arm, she took off for the exit with Booker sprinting at her side.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, these two deserve to have hot sex in a library or bookshop without getting caught… But I couldn’t resist letting them dig their own graves like the horny idiots they are. 🤣


	13. Bathtub/Shower

She was going to boil in this bathtub if he didn’t keep his hands off of her. She told him as much, but he merely smiled and groped at her breasts beneath the water. She arched against him, her hot moans adding to the steam in the little room.

It was snowing outside, a bleak December evening in Vancouver, but you’d never know from where they were sitting. It felt more like a sauna than a bathroom, mostly due to the fact that whenever the water began to cool, Booker drained it while adding in more and more hot water. It was such a waste, but Nile couldn’t find it in herself to care. Not when he was touching her like this.

“This is torture,” she accused at one point, so overwhelmed by the heat and his touch and her own desire that she thought she really might pass out. “You’re going to kill me.”

“So?” He chuckled in her ear, and then sucked at a spot just below it, making her shiver. “You’ll come back,” he assured her, and she whined at the thought, turning her head into his chest as if she could find solace there.

He wrapped his arms around her, running his big hands all over her wet, soapy skin. She could feel his erection at her back, so hard and rigid, and she wished he’d put it inside her already. She was ready. She’d been ready for ages.

But he seemed very intent on driving her insane before satisfying her. How he didn’t drive himself insane in the process, she had no idea.

They’d been in Vancouver for a week already—it was the first trip they’d taken together as an honest-to-goodness couple—and yet they had barely left the hotel. The plan had been to go out and explore the city in the winter, for he knew how she missed her frozen hometown, but so far they had only gone outside for meals. They spent the rest of their time in their high-rise hotel suite, making love on every surface that could hold them and even a few that couldn’t.

Nile knew they should be doing more, should be interacting with the world like normal people, but there was that voice in the back of her head telling her she could always do that tomorrow. Next week. Next year. After all, they had the rest of their very long lives to explore the world around them. It felt much more important, at this moment, to take the time to explore each other.

Nile could feel his massive thighs bracketing her body, and she ran her hands over them, squeezing the muscled flesh until she felt him twitch, too. She smiled against his chest, dipping her head down until she could lap at one of his nipples with her tongue. When she bit it, he grunted, his hips jerking up into hers.

“Who's the torturer now?” he muttered in her ear, and she couldn’t help but swell with pride. It was still rare for her to be able to spot the gaps in his armored discipline, let alone manage to successfully exploit them.

She laid her tongue against his nipple, soothing the bite, before twisting her body beneath the water. He tried to hold her in place—he so favored having her back to his front, and the inherent control it offered—but his hands were wet and her body was slippery and it was easy for her to escape his grasp. Easy to sink back down onto his lap, and tease his body the way he’d been teasing hers for hours. He deserved it, after all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally, something short again! Look, I’m capable, I swear! 😂


	14. Phone Sex

The first text came just before 9 AM, as the opening speaker was being welcomed to the stage. Amidst the rustle of polite applause, Sébastien stole a look at his phone before silencing it.

_I miss you._

He smiled faintly at Nile’s message, even as his heart twisted a little in his chest. This was the first work trip he’d taken since they’d gotten married five months ago, and the distance was a strain on them both. Two weeks was a long time to be gone, and every day it felt longer.

 _I miss you too,_ he typed back quickly. Then he put his phone away, faced forward, and didn’t look at it again for four hours.

By the time they broke for lunch at 1 PM and he had a chance to look at his phone, the screen was filled with texts and calls. For a second, his mind went fuzzy, his heart filling with fear that something terrible had happened, but then his eyes managed to focus and he realized the messages weren’t dire. They were just impatient. A very _specific_ kind of impatient.

 _Thought you might want to see what you’re missing_ , one text read.

 _My fingers never feel as good as yours,_ another lamented.

 _Are you really going to make me come all by myself?_ the last one asked.

Interspersed between the texts were pictures—chaste ones, at first, of their bed and her head against the pillow. But it didn’t take long before she was featuring her panties, then her bare breasts, then her hand between her spread legs, with her underwear around her ankles…

Sébastien started moving towards the bathrooms without even thinking, as if his cock had somehow taken control of his feet and legs in addition to his brain. He made the mistake of playing the voicemail she’d left while he was shouldering his way through the crowd, and her breathy, indignant voice filled his ear:

“Can’t… _believe_ —” she panted “—you let me… go to… _voicemail_. _”_

That last word was said with such a huff that he knew she’d been rubbing at her clit as she said it. It took everything in him not to sprint the last hundred meters to the bathrooms. Her voice reverberated in his mind, driving his blood up. When he reached for the door of the single-occupancy unisex bathroom, he felt the handle give as his body flooded with relief.

He locked it behind him immediately, already dialing her back. He heard the line ring once, twice… He prayed she would answer. She couldn’t leave him like this. So what if he hadn’t answered her texts or calls? _He_ was at work. She should have—

“Tell me you’re alone,” she demanded when the line connected.

“Alone,” he grunted, cradling his cell between his shoulder and his ear as he fumbled with his pants. His cock was already half-hard, straining against the fabric of his boxer briefs. “Alone, in the bathroom, and really fucking worked up because of you.”

“Because of _me?”_ she feigned. “I can’t imagine why.”

“Har-har,” he deadpanned. He made his way over to the toilet in the corner, hand wrapped firmly around his cock. “You going to tell me what you’re doing right now?” he asked his wife.

“Me?” She sighed luxuriantly. In his head, he could see her spread out in their bed, arms thrown wide over her head as she stretched. “Oh, you know. Just finishing up some work. Making a list for the store. Thinking of sorting through—”

_“Nile.”_

She giggled at the steel in his voice. “Impatient, baby?”

“You’re lucky I’m a thousand miles away, or I’d—”

“I’m back in our bed,” she interrupted in a whisper, and when he closed his eyes, he could see her there. Lean and beautiful, just like he woke up to nearly every morning. “I got too warm, so I kicked off the sheets. I’m lying here naked, in the sun, thinking of you. Missing you.”

“You been touching yourself?” His hand was moving rapidly up and down his cock, and he hoped she wasn’t expecting much because he knew already he wouldn’t last long.

“You saw the pictures, didn’t you?”

“Yes,” he bit out. “But they weren’t enough. Neither was that damn message you left me.”

“Enjoyed that, did you?” He knew she was grinning on the other end of the line. “I guess you could say I’ve been touching myself…” She let out a soft sigh and he squeezed his eyes shut, trying to see her in his mind, very much wishing he’d done a video call so he wouldn’t have to imagine. “But I’m doing something a little different than usual. I’ve got your pillow between my legs.”

“Fuck.” He groaned, stroking himself faster. “Nile…”

“You want to know what I’m doing with it, baby?” He grunted in affirmation. He could hear her breathing grow heavier as she said, “I’ve been riding it, rubbing myself against it, wishing it were your face between my thighs.”

“Soon,” he told her. He could feel his balls tightening, his body preparing for release. “Soon, I’ll be there. I’ll eat you out until you beg me to stop.”

“And? What else?” Her breathing was labored now, and he could swear he heard their bed creaking in the background as she worked herself over. “What else are you going to do to me?”

“I’m going to fuck you,” he promised, teeth gritted against the mounting pressure. “I’m going to fuck you over the fucking kitchen table, because we can’t make it to the bedroom.”

“Gonna make me come?” she demanded, and when he told her yes and how, he heard her break. He followed soon after, his mind full of her: her, bent over that old table of theirs; her, shattering on his cock; her, crying out his name the way she always did when the pleasure became too much.

Like she was doing right now, half a word away, as she humped that damn pillow while listening to his voice on the phone. When he asked her, in the woozy aftermath, if she’d made a mess like he had, she just laughed.

“You’ll see when you get home,” she told him. “I see no reason to wash the sheets between now and the end of the week, do you?”

“Nile…”

“Go back to work, baby. I’ll be here waiting when you get home.”

She hung up then, and he pocketed his phone before throwing his head back, screwing up his face in lieu of screaming. He wouldn’t be home for another four and a half days. He had no idea how he was supposed to make it that long.


End file.
